An Ounce of Cure
by Raven Dancer
Summary: For those few brave souls who asked who Randall Clarion was... Severus Snape and Jeffrey Barnes develop a potion to cure the latest influenza. Complete.
1. Chapter 1 of 3

An Ounce of Cure  
  
by Raven Dancer  
  
rating: PG-13  
  
disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes, Daniel Murphy and Beryl. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.  
  
This is for those few, brave souls who asked who Randall Clarion was...  
  
1/3  
  
  
  
Every Fall, as the days grew colder, students and staff were hit with various forms of influenza. In the closed environment of Hogwarts Castle, the variety of illnesses spread quickly among the inhabitants. Sometimes it was just a simple cold, sometimes sore throats and a cough. Every few years, though, a more virulent strain would attack the castle leaving many people very ill.  
  
The hospital wing only had 10 beds in the ward and two isolation rooms. So, for the most part, all ill students and staff were tended to and sent back to their rooms. On those occasions the house elves zipped from patient to patient keeping them clean and as comfortable as possible. The extremely ill (or injured) would be kept in the hospital.  
  
Madame Pomfrey had stocked a generous supply of potions to counteract various ailments the students and staff picked up and passed around to their colleagues. She had also spoken with the Potions Master (much to her distaste) to have a couple special potions she preferred brewed up. Of course, she had gone first to the Headmaster who in turn sent for Severus Snape.   
  
Why Dumbledore insisted she ask Snape personally every year was beyond her. Wouldn't it be easier for him to mention it to Snape? She pushed her disgust aside as she went down the Headmaster's stairs. She had asked in as few words possible for her pepper-up potion and for a sore throat concoction Snape had developed many years before. (imagine the man could actually brew _healing_ potions!) Plus a modified fever draught she'd created with Snape during a small but stubborn outbreak of strep throat four years back. At least _that_ was over for another year.  
  
You enjoyed that, didn't you Headmaster? Professor Snape asked with a sneer. The older man's eyes were lit up with suppressed laughter.  
  
Severus, I have no idea what you are talking about, he chided merrily.   
  
You have a mean streak in you, Albus Dumbledore, Snape   
sighed. Most unbecoming, if you should ask me.  
  
But I didn't, the laughing eyes continued sparkling as tea was poured out for two. With a slight wave of his hand one cup moved across the table to the younger man, complete with a berry scone.  
  
Of course, I knew Pomfrey would be asking for her   
favorite potions. I started them over a week ago, Snape said with a slight smile.  
  
Seems someone else in this room delights in making   
Poppy ask, the Headmaster smirked. Snape shrugged.  
  
It's only right, he asserted.   
  
They sipped and nibbled for a moment, letting the room settle around them. It was comfortable, sitting quietly together. All the cares of teaching and running a school forgotten. Snape breathed in the aroma of Earl Gray tea sweetened with a little honey. Dumbledore had mixed the beverage for him when he was young, a student. It brought back many memories, mostly good.  
  
Dumbledore shifted a few parchments around his desk before selecting one to send over to his companion.  
  
Received this little jewel by owl today, he commented, watching the Professor's face intently. As Snape quickly scanned the letter a scowl settled on his face. He tossed the parchment down angrily.  
  
Let them find someone else, Albus, he growled. Dumbledore nodded sympathetically.  
  
My thoughts, too, the older man concurred. He continued to watch Snape carefully, watching a progression of emotions. Anger dissipated quickly, replaced with annoyance then he picked up the parchment again.  
  
Except, if this new influenza is as bad as they're   
predicting, maybe I should look into a few potions. I  
would hate for Hogwarts to be affected by it, he tempered.  
Dumbledore covered a smile pretending to wipe crumbs from his lips.  
  
Well, there is that. This strain seems to have mutated  
somewhat from the past few years. Seems to be more  
resistant to the old potions. The muggle doctors are   
warning the public about it, having them vaccinate in droves. it seems to be quite virulent. Maybe Jeffrey Barnes would be  
interested in working with you. he offered. Snape nodded.  
  
True. He's always liked research and testing. I'll  
send him a note. We could at least talk about preventatives  
and cures, Snape's wheels were churning now, just like Dumbledore knew they would. The wizard loved to craft specialized potions; this year's influenza offered him the opportunity to indulge himself as well as help the school at large.  
  
the Potions Master looked to his friend.   
If the ministry sends out a researcher, could you   
intercede? Last time was bad enough.'  
  
Last time had been horrendous. Snape had customed a veritaserum for the ministry and the research department had sent both a researcher and an auror. Between the subtle threat of arrest from the auror and the assertions that Snape had done something wrong in creating the powerful truth serum both Snape and Dumbledore were more than reluctant to help again. Both were extremely glad they'd saved all the messages from the ministry to prove Snape had been asked to develop the powerful potion.  
  
Don't worry, Severus. This is a cure for an illness,  
not a tool for interrogation, Albus took the parchment back and glanced at it.  
  
Anyway, it does come directly from Clarion, the head of   
Medical research, not the Minister of Magic's office. They   
must be desperate if they're asking for you to work on it. Snape shrugged, tacitly agreeing.   
  
It looks as if they're asking most of the Potions professors  
in the various wizarding schools to work on it, Snape noted.  
  
All the better. Play with it, Severus, in your spare' time.  
Both men smiled at that. Spare time? With a chuckle Dumbledore sipped his tea and they settled back into comfortable silence.  
  
  
  
  
By the end of the week Snape had arranged for several students to help bottle up Pomfrey's potions and deliver them to the hospital wing. He knew from experience the witch would be more likely to be polite to the student delivery persons than if he did it himself. She actually sent a terse note of thanks, something she hadn't done in several years. He set it on the corner of his private desk under a small carved raven.  
  
Over the next several weeks Snape played with the influenza potion. Dr. Jeffrey Barnes visited and went over specifics of the virus. They made several test batches of cures. The main difficulty was the number of symptoms the bug caused. Just reducing the fever did nothing for the nausea. Plus the dehydration was devastating. Antibiotics had to be blended in, a muggle-potion, to actually kill the virus. This made the potion's balance precarious. A one-dose cure was not possible; they finally managed to produce a seven dose course (once a day for a week) that seemed to work_._   
  
In any event, it did help with the first cases of chest and sinus infections that were cropping up in early November. Snape brewed a large caldronful and bottled it with Barnes; half went to Hogsmeade, half to the hospital wing. It took three days to brew an effective batch. Given too early it lacked the potency to knock out the infection. Of course, the longer it brewed the stronger it became. Four days was optimal, three days was satisfactory.   
  
Dumbledore dutifully sent several bottles (enough for about 125 - 15cc doses) with the brewing instructions and ingredients, to the Medical Research department at the Ministry of Magic. He was careful to put both Barnes' and Snape's names down as the creators of the potion. He heard nothing in reply at that time.  
  
It was the last of November when the first cases of influenza C' (as the muggles called it) began to crop up in Hogsmeade. The Saturday visit (first weekend of December) was canceled to reduce student exposure to the illness. Unfortunately, a few students slipped into town, some through hidden passages, some simply walked in without expressed permission. As one Slytherin put it, Best to asked forgiveness if caught than permission.   
  
Barnes pointed out the virus could have been carried in by one of the owls that brought the mail. A letter or package from an infected relative. Whoever or whatever the culprit was, by the second week of December fully a quarter of the castle inhabitants were sick and it looked like the rest would catch it soon.   
  
Class after class was canceled as each professor fell ill; and the classes that managed to meet contained fewer and fewer students. It was a vicious illness, within two days of onset the affected person would be bedridden, dizzy and nauseous with a ragged, wet cough. Snape gave up trying to teach and instead began brewing batch after batch of the healing potion.  
  
Fortunately, the potion took effect quickly. After a few hours the nausea would subside. Even if they had no desire to eat the juice and water stayed down keeping them hydrated. By the end of the second day the extreme dizziness would be alleviated enough that most could get up and take care of themselves. This made it much easier for the house elves who had to help feed and care for the bedridden. By the fifth day most of the ill could dress and go down to eat in the hall.  
  
Dr. Barnes sent a note stressing the final two doses were imperative. Several of his patients who'd skipped them, thinking they were cured, suffered relapses. The relapse was worse than the original illness. He and Snape had to modify the potion, making it stronger without causing serious side-effects.   
  
By the third week nearly everyone in Hogsmeade seemed to be sick. Barnes and Pomfrey came down nearly simultaneously and Snape was left brewing and dispensing the potion. Letters to the ministry for help had gone unanswered for several days and it looked as though they would just have to ride the epidemic out.  
  
By shear will Snape seemed to keep from catching the illness until the week prior to winter break. He had bottled up the latest batch of potion, sending it up to the hospital wing for a recovering Pomfrey to distribute when he began sweating profusely. He was bedridden within two hours. Dobby brought the message to the nurse asking for a dose for the Potions Master.  
  
Pomfrey had immediately sent down a dose with the elf and the first symptoms were reduced significantly. The problem arose the next day when the Ministry came visiting. Much to the surprise of Pomfrey, (but not to Dumbledore) the Randall Clarion, head of research, confessed they hadn't made enough of the potion and were dangerously low. They took Pomfrey's entire stockpile, sans that day's dosing needs, and said they'd return once the next batch had been bottled to do the same. The nurse cautioned them it would be at least three days before a new batch would be available. The batch currently brewing would have to last three days for the school.  
  
Pomfrey was _furious_! Without any warning the Clarion had simply taken her entire supply of medication. If anyone else came down with the illness that day they'd have to wait for the following day to get treatment. She stomped around the castle checking patients whilst trying to burn off her anger.   
  
Stopping by the dungeons (something she normally would never do) she looked in on Snape and the latest batch of potion. He was curled up on his office couch, miserable, watching Dobby and Beryl stir the simmering brew and prepare bottles.   
  
All of it, Poppy? he asked with a groan.  
  
Yes, Severus, all of it, she confirmed.   
  
I'll have to start at least two cauldrons more today, he grumbled, and you'll have to put some aside for emergencies.   
I have only been doing one small batch at a time.  
  
I know, Poppy said, we've only been brewing sufficient  
potion for our needs and Hogsmeade! You better  
get moving on brewing. We'll really need the potion in three  
days!  
  
So Snape started two more cauldrons. It had been difficult when he felt ok to brew the one, now it was over-whelming. He at least had Dobby there with him most of the time. The elf actually was good at helping with the routine stuff. It was the middle of the night when Snape finally collapsed on the couch, Beryl tucking a blanket around him.  
  
Hours later, Snape was roused sufficiently to direct the bottling of the readied potion. He took his dose, sent the rest of the batch to Pomfrey, checked the brewing cauldrons and managed to set out the ingredients to start yet another batch of potion before having to lie down. He was three days into the cycle, but lack of sleep slowed the healing process. He could barely keep anything in his stomach, had a difficult enough time trying to drink anything in the first place being so weak. Dobby and Beryl alternated checking on him while they performed their other duties. It was early afternoon when he was able to drag himself upright long enough to start the next batch brewing.  
  
In the Headmaster's offices Dumbledore was finally out of his sickbed. After five days he felt well enough to get to his desk. Smack dab in the middle was a note from Pomfrey complaining about the Ministry's tactics taking all their potion for the current influenza. She had dutifully noted Snape was making a double batch and also that the Potions Master had become ill.   
  
He wished he could bring Snape up to his rooms; just to keep an eye on him. He knew the Potions Master would run himself into the ground making the antidote. The potion needed tending and the only people competent to do so were Barnes and Snape. Dobby reported he was assisting the Potions Master and would keep the Headmaster updated on his condition.  
  
The following day brought more problems. Pomfrey sent potion out to the ill via house elves. She had lists for each student tower as well as the staff. When she got to Snape, though, she assumed he'd kept a bottle of the potion for himself and neglected to send a dose down to the dungeons. Counting the bottles and estimating the dosing, she realized she would just have enough for the next morning. She would have worried, but the double batch would also be ready the next day.   
  
Pomfrey had just closed up her cupboards when Clarion, complete with two security wizards came visiting' again. Cornering the witch the doctor quickly ascertained she'd given the daily doses out and she'd have a new batch available in the morning. He simply sent his cohorts into her supply room and strip all the potion from it.  
  
Pomfrey protested loudly, demanding to know why they kept taking their stockpile.  
  
You must be brewing your own supply, surely! she accused. The Mediwizard looked a bit embarrassed.  
  
We have been, but the researchers didn't trust the   
formulae from Professor Snape. They've been substituting  
ingredients. Nothing they've come up with works as well  
as his potion. They're starting to brew his recipe this  
morning, but it will be three days before it's ready.  
She stared at the wizard incredulously,  
  
Didn't trust the recipe? Then for gods sake why did you  
take our entire batch two days ago?  
  
Because it was working for you. The lab analyzed it  
and it matches the ingredients Snape wrote out, Clarion shamefully admitted.  
  
So you think you have the right to waltz in here and _steal  
_ our entire batch because you didn't trust Severus??! Pomfrey was livid.  
  
He's associated with the death eaters, ma'am, said one of the young aurors.   
  
Alastor Moody warned us about him. As well as the   
Minister himself, he finished. The nurse was flabbergasted. Yes, she disliked the Potions Master. She didn't actually trust him when she thought about it, but on the other hand he took his potions seriously and had never, never given her inferior potions in all the past years that she could recall. In fact, he always brewed superior products. Maybe she should rethink her hatred of the wizard after all.  
  
Just get out, she spat. OUT! Don't come back!   
  
Oh, we'll be back in tomorrow, when your double batch  
is bottled. We'll need just enough to carry us until ours is  
ready, and they left. Pomfrey sat down in the chair looking at the empty cupboard shelf. Twice, TWICE, they'd taken her supplies. Had the nerve to question Snape's formulae. She had to tell Dumbledore. Now.  
  
The Headmaster was livid.  
  
All of it, Poppy? he asked rubbing his eyes.  
  
Every bottle, Albus. Plus they're coming back tomorrow.  
I do not understand why they didn't just brew Severus's  
potion to begin with, she complained.  
  
Lack of trust. He has always, always produced clean  
product for them. He has never failed to create what  
they've asked for, to the detriment of his own health,  
and yet they cling to the fact he was a death eater at  
one time, Dumbledore shook his head. He was their  
spy for gods sake!  
  
Looking up the two wizards noted Beryl waiting politely. Dumbledore smiled slightly.  
  
Hullo, Beryl. What do you need? Dumbledore asked kindly.  
  
Professor Snape needs his potion, Madame Nurse forgets  
it, Beryl said quickly. Pomfrey looked confused.  
  
I thought he kept a bottle for himself, Beryl.  
  
No, Professor Snape says take it all to Madame Nurse.  
Professor Snape says he's too sick to dose himself.  
Professor Snape says he forgets if he takes it already  
so Professor Snape wants Madame Nurse to sends it and the loyal creature smiled waiting for the potion.  
  
He didn't get any this morning? Pomfrey looked shocked.  
  
No. Professor Snape fixes the cauldrons and goes  
back to couch. Professor Snape needs his potion, the elf again smiled patiently.  
  
I'll send a message over to Hogsmeade, Dumbledore pushed up and approached the muggle computer set up in the office. He typed his request to Dr. Barnes.  
  
They'll send a bottle over, he assured the nurse.  
  
Within twenty minutes Dr. Jeffrey Barnes was in the Headmaster's office, angry beyond measure.  
They took our entire stock, too, Headmaster. Said they  
needed to send some to other areas. They assured me  
a new batch would be available in the morning.  
  
Which doesn't help us now, Pomfrey said quietly.  
  
No. But I will go down and check on Severus, Barnes said quickly, We'll treat the symptoms. I can give him some  
antibiotics and fever potions for now. If he can keep   
enough liquids down he'll be fine.


	2. Chapter 2 of 3

An Ounce of Cure  
  
by Raven Dancer  
  
rating: PG-13  
  
disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes, Daniel Murphy and Beryl. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.  
  
This is for those few, brave souls who asked who Randall Clarion was...  
  
2/3  
  
  
Snape wasn't remotely all right. He was sweaty, in need of a bath and still very ill. He'd been pushing himself too long and was now suffering for it. Barnes found him nearly passed out in a chair by the cauldrons.  
  
he scolded, gathering the ill man up, nose wrinkling in disgust. He got no response.   
  
Severus? Come on, Sev, wake up he checked for pulse and opened an eyelid. No response. He was breathing, although it was fast and shallow. His heart beat was rapid as well. He called to Beryl and Dobby.  
  
What was he doing this morning?  
  
Professor Snape set up new cauldron, get the ingredients  
together. Professor Snape said needed to start another  
batch, Dobby reported. Barnes noted the ingredients laid out on the bench, the clean cauldron waiting. He'd take over brewing once he took care of Snape.  
  
Barnes carefully explained to the two elves to watch the cauldrons until he returned. They knew enough to stir and maintain the temperature. Both had helped Snape enough to feel confident to take over until the doctor returned. Levitating the sick man Barnes moved him out of the dungeons, locking the doors securely. He brought him upstairs to the Headmaster's rooms and gently bathed him. He was somewhat disturbed that Snape didn't wake through the entire procedure.  
  
Finally in clean leggings and sleep shirt, the Potions Master was put into bed.  
  
He doesn't look good, Dumbledore remarked.  
  
No, he's pretty rundown, Barnes agreed. He hasn't  
been taking care of himself.  
  
What about the potions he's brewing? the Headmaster asked.  
  
I'll take care of them. The epidemic is winding down in town.   
We had the bulk of our cases begin well before yours.  
Dumbledore moved to straighten covers.  
  
I feel much better, the older man said. One more dose   
and I'll be through, he reported.  
  
The potion is quite effective. Severus is brilliant, the healer smiled warmly, although I'm sure you realized that ages ago.  
  
Oh, possibly, Dumbledore smiled, then turned serious.  
So the skipped dose? Barnes just shrugged.   
  
I'm going to reserve half a caldron of the potion to brew  
another day. Then it will be at its full potency. I have a  
feeling Severus will need that. A slight movement caught their attention and the healer reached for the sick man's hand, brushing his hair back with the other.  
  
Severus? You with us? he asked gently. Snape's face animated as he woke.  
  
I need to get the potion started, he murmured, trying to push himself up. Barnes carefully held him in place.  
  
Severus, sshh. It's ok. I'm watching the cauldrons, he spoke soothingly.  
  
the thin voice quavered weakly.  
  
Yes, Severus. I came over from the clinic. The towns-  
people are on the mend. Heard you were sick and might  
need some help, Barnes ran his hand up and down the wizard's shoulder.  
  
Sick? Not sick, Snape protested weakly. Some damned   
troll ran me over, though. Dumbledore and Barnes chuckled.  
  
the ill wizard tried to focus beyond the healer. The headmaster moved closer, taking his hand from Barnes.  
  
Yes, child. I'm right here. You can rest, now. Sleep.  
Jeffrey will look after the cauldrons, he smoothed hair back and looked into his friend's eyes. Eyes confused and exhausted.  
  
Give him something to drink, Headmaster, Barnes stood and moved towards the door. I'm going down to put together the  
next batch. I'll be back up.  
  
When the Healer returned he found his patient in the lounge curled up in the Headmaster's arms, head tucked neatly under his chin against his beard and chest. Dumbledore smiled sheepishly.  
  
He sleeps better this way, he said quietly. Barnes made no comment. He had suspected these two men were close, just given how Dumbledore had always cared for Snape in his rooms when he was ill or hurt. Both healed quicker when they were together and in any event both were more tractable when the other was there to protect him.  
  
And well he should. It eases the chest congestion.   
Did you get some fluids into him? Barnes sat next to them, taking Snape's wrist in his hand to check his pulse.  
  
Most of a glass of watered down juice. The fever potion  
seems to have worked; he's been sweating freely, the Headmaster observed.  
  
Good. Just keep pushing the liquids. You too! You've  
just finished up on your course of potions, haven't you? Barnes looked at the older man.  
  
Last one tomorrow morning. Good stuff you two whipped  
up, Dumbledore smiled.  
  
He whipped up. I brought the antibiotics and he blended.  
I forgot how intriguing brewing potions was, Barnes touched Snape's face and slowly insinuated himself into the man's systems. Yes, the potion was doing its job, but everything was sluggish, healing slowly. Now that he was fully resting he would get better more quickly. Pulling out, Barnes found the Headmaster's eyes boring into him.  
  
He's going to be fine, Albus. Severus just pushed himself  
too hard, as usual. He just needs to sleep and gets some  
nourishment into him. Probably a full 7 days more of the  
potion starting tomorrow just for good measure, he sat back and smiled reassuringly.  
  
Sometimes I think he likes getting sick or hurt just so he  
can curl up and sleep in my rooms, Dumbledore remarked.  
  
He feels safe here, Albus. He has very few friends, Barnes said seriously. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
Very few, he agreed, and fewer places where he's  
actually safe.  
  
Barnes tended the cauldrons with the elves' help and looked after Snape. Four cauldrons going simultaneously was a bit of a challenge at first, but after the last of the ingredients went into the newest cauldron it became a matter of just stirring and watching the fire. The temperature charms worked well and he was able to return to his favorite patient for long stretches.   
  
Snape slept, rousing only to sip the cool juices and waters the elves brought up. The ragged coughing barely disturbed him.  
  
He's certainly sleeping a lot, Dumbledore commented late in the evening as he prepared for bed.  
  
Yes, but it's not too restful, not with that cough. The  
potion will help dry out his lungs, Barnes was listening to Snape's lungs, frowning. They were wet and full of phlegm. Shuffling through his medicine bag, he pulled out a bottle.  
  
Let me try to get this into him. It'll break up some of  
that goop in his chest and he'll cough it out.  
  
Snape made a truly awful face when the spoon deposited the liquid in his mouth. He blinked his eyes open and sleepily glared at his caretakers.  
  
Vicious looking git, isn't he? Barnes commented to Dumbledore as they waited. Dumbledore offered Snape a cup of watery juice. The ill man sipped, taking several longish drinks. He settled back against the pillows, eyes blinking against sleep.  
  
Vicious ? he managed to whisper.  
  
If looks could kill, Barnes teased, waiting for the cough to begin. Snape slipped off, dozing away for a few minutes. Until the cough syrup kicked in. As the first hard coughs wracked his body, the healer flipped him onto his stomach and tilted him slightly so his head was lower than his feet. Gently he cupped his hands against Snape's back to help loosen the phlegm.  
  
Snape was not at all pleased with this turn of events. He clenched the sheets as he hacked up his lungs. At the very least Dumbledore stayed close, holding a basin to catch the expelled matter and wiping his face. This procedure, hacking, pounding the back, an encouraging word or two, continued for over twenty minutes until the patient was exhausted and the basin partially full. Barnes ceased and selected another potion from his bag. This was offered to Snape who refused to open his mouth, burying his face into the pillows.  
  
Severus, it's ok. This will help you stop coughing, Barnes tried. But Snape wasn't buying it.  
  
he managed, hacking harder, his whole body involved.  
  
I know, Barnes soothed. This will take away the pain.  
Finally, with Dumbledore interceding, the patient allowed himself to be levitated into the healer's lap and held tight. Cool juice was ready as well as a large spoonful of syrup. He accepted the potion from the Headmaster and then took a long sip of the juice. A few more coughs, a little more juice, a gentle rocking back and forth. Dumbledore smiled softly as Barnes began to hum a child's tune to the sick man.  
  
Codeine is wonderful stuff, Barnes sighed as Snape finally slipped under. The older man looked at him curiously.  
  
It's a muggle medicine; it works quite well. I learned  
about it at the muggle university. Dad actually uses  
it, too, the young man soothed his patient's sleep, gently stroking his hair back from his face as he slept, still tightly clinging.  
  
He'll relax in a bit, Dumbledore spoke from experience,  
just keep rocking and humming. He loves music.  
  
Within ten minutes Snape was limp in sleep. Barnes was almost reluctant to move him back to his bed. But he did, levitating him between the cool sheets.  
  
I'll just check the cauldrons one last time and then I'll sleep  
on the lounge, he said.  
  
You might as well take part of the bed. I'll enlarge it  
a bit. It'll be more comfortable, Dumbledore pointed his wand and stretched the bed a bit then climbed in on the side closer to Snape.  
  
It's ok, he doesn't snuggle unless you pull him close, Barnes looked at the arrangement and shrugged.   
  
I'll be back soon, and he slipped downstairs.  
  
The healer did sleep in the bed; it was much more comfortable than the lounge or couch. Plus it was much easier to check on Snape when he woke in the dead of night. Fever was up and he easily fed him a potion to help break it. He soothed his patient back into a deep sleep and fell asleep himself with no problem.  
  
Morning came and Barnes woke first, stretching. He quickly looked Snape over and dressed. He needed to bottle the potion that was ready and get it over to Pomfrey.   
  
And bring some up to Snape.  
  
It took over two hours to pour all the potion into the clean bottles the house elves had lined up. Carefully boxed, he took one bottle and sent the rest up to Pomfrey. Dobby was instructed to clean the cauldrons so he could start another double batch. A smaller cauldron was set to the side with some of the three-day old potion to simmer one more day for Snape. Pleased with himself, he went upstairs.  
  
When he returned to the dungeons nearly two hours later the place was a mess. Oh, the cauldrons were ok, still simmering away, but the shelves had been ransacked. Many ingredients had been jumbled together and lay wasted on the floor. He'd never be able to brew the potions from Snape's destroyed stores.  
  
Barnes realized the elves were missing and quickly crossed to the table to ring the bell. Dobby appeared first, cowering, followed by Beryl. They relaxed visibly when they saw the young doctor.  
  
What happened? he asked, a little louder than he intended.   
The elves flinched.  
  
Ministry doctor came. Ministry doctor asked for the  
potion that Professor Snape had. Dobby told him no  
potions left. Dobby and Beryl take potion to Madame  
Nurse, Dobby spluttered.  
Beryl told ministry doctor no potions left here, all  
potions up with Madame Nurse. Ministry doctor get  
mad. Bad wizard tear open Professor Snape's cupboards, Beryl looked sadly at the terrible mess.  
  
Bad wizard go through all Professor Snape's things.   
Won't listen to Dobby. Won't listen to Beryl, Dobby added.  
  
But where are they now? Where did they go? Barnes asked quickly.  
  
Bad wizard and Ministry doctor go upstairs to talk to   
Professor Snape. Bad wizard think Professor   
Snape has potion hidden, Beryl squeaked.  
  
Dobby, go tell Madame Pomfrey what you've told me.   
I need her to come up to the Headmaster's office and  
vouch for Professor Snape. Beryl, go find Professor Lupin  
and tell him what's happening. If he's well enough tell him  
to come upstairs, too. Then see if you can clean up  
this mess! Barnes turned and nearly ran from the room.   
  
How did he miss those two wizards when he came downstairs? Unless they hid? Why would they hide from him? It was amazing how quickly he made it up the stairs to the Headmaster's offices, shoving the door open he proceeded directly into the bedroom.  
  
He did not like what he saw.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was frozen, probably a binding charm, in the lounge chair. Professor Snape was screaming.  
  
a patient, calm, _evil_ voice intoned.  
  
Doctor, so good to see you. We're looking for the rest   
of the potion. I really don't want to keep asking Severus  
where he's hidden it. He just is sooo uncooperative, the security wizard (*bad wizard* thought Barnes) looked at him serenely. Snape had stopped screaming, but now was whimpering in pain.  
  
Use the Headmaster. Snape will do anything for _Albus_, the Clarion sneered.   
  
I, I told you, how Snape was managing to speak was beyond Barnes,  
I didn't hide any. None! Don't hurt Albus, his voice cracked as he struggled against the pain.  
  
He's telling the truth, he's been up here. I bottled the  
last batch myself and sent it to the hospital wing. I believe  
I sent about 12 dozen bottles, Barnes started to move towards his patient, but a wand lazily motioned him back.  
  
12 dozen. And I figure you used a full two dozen this   
morning for the patients here. Only 7 dozen in the supply   
cupboard, the ministry doctor considered.  
  
We want the other 36 bottles, Barnes. We want them and   
he knows where they are, the security wizard said harshly.  
  
and Snape curled into a ball fighting for a moment before the screams started again. No disgrace in screaming when the pain was unbearable.  
  
Barnes whipped his wand out fast, stopping the curse. Both wizards turned menacingly towards the healer.  
  
Maybe _you _ hid the potion. Maybe we should be asking  
_you,_ sneered the security wizard. They didn't get far.  
  
A voice came from the doorway.  
  
Pomfrey asserted as she moved in, wand out, trapping Clarion in invisible webs. Remus Lupin followed her in. he threw the charm straight at the security wizard. Barnes waved his wand over Dumbledore as he ran to Snape.  
  
Finitum Incantantum. Dumbledore pushed himself up from the lounge, the anger in his eyes terrifying to see. He walked past the two bound men and went to the fireplace. He threw a massive handful of floo powder.  
  
ACCIO OFFICER DANIEL MURPHY he yelled. The swirling fire raged for a moment and then a grizzled-haired wizard stepped out glaring.  
  
This had better be good, he began, then calmed a bit when he saw where he was.  
  
Albus Dumbledore! What's going on? the man asked in concern. He could see Pomfrey in the doorway, Snape limp on the bed being tending to by a healer and another professor, a ministry doctor, Clarion he remembered, and one of his own men, a man who's insubordinance caused him to remove him from duty on several occasions, frozen in a binding curse. This would be good.   
  
Depending on how you defined good'.  
  
Dumbledore quickly outlined how the two wizards forced themselves into his rooms, then into the bedroom, on the pretext of thanking Snape for formulating the potion. Upon entering the room they bound him and immediately threatened Snape if he did not divulge the where abouts of the flu potion that was bottled that morning. They had used the cruciatus curse three times before they had been bound.  
  
I reserved the potion, Headmaster, Pomfrey nervously admitted.   
  
They had taken everything the last two times. We needed  
some left for our patients! I didn't know they would hurt  
Professor Snape, she sat down in a chair rather dazed.  
  
When I told them that Snape had nothing to do with the  
bottling and storage of this morning's batch they   
threatened the Headmaster then hexed Severus with the   
third curse, Barnes added from the bedside. Snape was still in pain, still whimpering. He'd thrown up and soiled himself and was completely unreachable.  
  
sshh, Severus, he whispered, trying to soothe the hurt wizard. Lupin picked up the empty basin and went towards the washroom.  
  
Murphy looked at Snape for a moment then turned his considerable attention to Clarion. He plucked the medi wizard's wand from his hand then released him.  
  
Well, Clarion, I trust you have a good reason for taking  
the flu potion, threatening, and harming Professor Snape, Murphy stared, waiting. Clarion shuffled a bit before talking.  
  
I had my orders, to bring back all the potion they'd   
produced for the Ministry Hospital. People are panicking  
and they have the antidote, he spoke rapidly.  
  
We _gave_ you not only several dozen bottles from the  
school and our clinic in Hogsmeade, but also the potion's  
recipe over four days ago. You should have started  
your own batches at the hospital! Barnes exclaimed angrily.  
  
Not to mention we sent you eight bottles and the  
recipe several **_weeks_** ago, Dumbledore snarled.  
  
Well, Dr. Clarion? Is this true? Murphy asked carefully. The Ministry doctor darkened, not speaking for a long moment.  
  
he finally hissed, Yes, they sent the formulae and  
samples. But Snape is a death eater for Merlin's sake. How  
could we believe him?  
  
Now Murphy darkened in anger, but kept it tamped down quite effectively.  
  
Even I know, a lowly security wizard, that Snape is on  
our side. I know he's produced some extremely useful  
potions for our use over the years. And if I recall, he  
seemed to find an antidote for a poison last year that  
had you and your research team stumped. Severus   
Snape would never keep such a vital potion away from  
anyone who needed it, Murphy just glared at him.   
  
*Lowly security wizard indeed,* thought Dumbledore, *head of the force more like it!*  
  
And you, Adams, what do you have to say for yourself? he plucked the wand from the security wizard and terminated the binding curse. Adams' sullen face turned down.  
  
I don't have to tell you anything, Murphy. My orders were  
from higher up, he sneered.  
  
Higher up than me? Murphy asked as quiet as darkness itself.  
  
From the Minister of Magic, he boasted.  
  
You'd better hope so, mister, said Murphy softly. In case  
you don't remember using the cruciatus curse is frowned  
upon from Minister Fudge on down. Usually one earns a few  
months in Azkaban for using it, Adams flinched at the name.  
  
I'm sorry, Headmaster, for the intrusion, Murphy said.   
I'll return these two to the Ministry office and get back  
to you shortly.  
  
What about the missing potion, Clarion jumped in.  
  
You'll take what you have and be done with it, Murphy asserted.  
  
Your incompetence won't be so easy to cover up  
this time, Doctor, he added with a nasty smile. He moved towards the fireplace, allowing Clarion and Adams to pickup the boxes of potion before flinging floo powder in for them, one after the other. Sorry Albus, I'll get to the bottom of it, Murphy promised Dumbledore. Then he stepped in and vanished. The fire was put out and the Headmaster quickly crossed the room to his friend.  
  
Lupin had brought out clean water to wipe down the worst of it. Barnes had managed to strip shirt and leggings when Dumbledore leaned over him to touch Snape.  
  
Severus, are you all right, child? he asked with a tremor in his voice. Snape's eyes flew open.  
  
he looked for his mentor. Barnes and Lupin backed off and allowed the older man to come forward. He took the large towel off the bed and wrapped Snape quickly, pulling him up into his arms. The Potions Master held on tight, trying not to cry.  
  
I thought they were going to hurt you, Snape managed as he hid his face against Dumbledore's chest.  
  
They did hurt you, the Headmaster rocked the ill man, then began to soothe him.  
  
Barnes leaned in,  
Let's get him cleaned up, Albus, he whispered into the older man's ear. Agreeing, Snape was moved to the washroom where he was cleaned and the bedding stripped and fresh put on. Soon he was tightly curled up holding onto the Headmaster in the lounge. More juice and water were mixed and offered, suffused with a pain reliever. Soon the Potions Master was asleep.   
  
I don't think he's going to let go any time soon, Barnes commented as he put away his vials. Lupin sat on the edge of the bed a bit worse for wear. He was over the worst of it, but the exertion exhausted him quickly.   
  
No, I don't suppose so, Dumbledore shifted so he was holding Snape looser. I don't really feel like letting him go,   
either. A dark look passed over the Headmaster's face.  
They just came in and attacked. I never, _never_ expected  
our own side to treat anyone so harshly. It didn't matter  
that Severus was obviously sick, he rested his head against his friend's. Barnes stepped closer and put a soothing hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.   
  
I've seen it before. I sometimes wonder if we're really  
on the right side. Maybe there's a third side, one that  
doesn't torture and lie and steal, he silently sent some healing warmth into the older man causing him to sigh and lean back.  
  
Yes, Jeffrey, if we're only looking at two sides, we're on  
the right one. I must admit, there is a third side, one  
that needs to expose the evil hidden inside the other two   
and work to destroy it, a pale smile graced his face.  
Don't drain yourself, young man, you've just gotten over  
this illness yourself! Barnes grinned, giving one last stream of warmth before stopping the flow. Lupin shifted.  
  
At least the third side includes all peoples, muggle,  
magic, giant, and reformed. The other two have such  
problems with differing contingents, he yawned.  
  
Lie down, Remus. You're still in the thick of things.   
The bed is clean and accepting bodies, Dumbledore said.  
With a shy smile Lupin crawled onto the bed and curled up against a pillow. He was asleep nearly immediately. Barnes excused himself to go back downstairs.  
  
They trashed Severus's lab. I'll have to send to Hogsmeade  
for fresh ingredients and supplies, Barnes mentioned as he was leaving.  
  
Make a list with costs. I'm going to take it out of Clarion's  
hide, Dumbledore's eyes glittered.   
  
Even with Dobby and Beryl it took Barnes the best part of three hours to clean up and throw away all the ruined potions stores. He sent a message to the clinic to obtain the ingredients to brew another batch of potion. He returned upstairs to eat and to check on his patient.  



	3. Chapter 3 of 3

An Ounce of Cure  
  
by Raven Dancer  
  
rating: PG-13  
  
disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes, Daniel Murphy and Beryl. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.  
  
This is for those few, brave souls who asked who Randall Clarion was...  
  
3/3  
  
Snape was back in bed when he came in. Lupin and Dumbledore were sitting in comfortable chairs starting to eat a light dinner. Smiling, Barnes made his way to the sleeping man.  
He was a bit surprised at the fever, the potions had worn off quickly. Barnes reached into his bag and began to mix a new fever potion in the juice next to the bed.  
  
Waking the Potions Master wasn't very easy, either. The Healer briefly thought about injecting a potion, but instead pulled the wizard up leaning against him.  
  
Severus? Se-ver-us? he tried singing; he vaguely recalled Dumbledore singing to him on a few occasions. Snape breathed in deeply, rolled his head slightly and woke up. Two tired eyes regarded the Healer silently.  
  
Se-ver-us, sip for me, he continued, holding the straw up to his mouth. Snape accepted the straw and began to draw up the cool liquid. Barnes coaxed him into finishing off the cup, then poured in cold water. Snape again took the straw and drank deeply. Releasing the straw, the Potions Master sighed and nuzzled into the Healer's shirt.  
  
Barnes held the ill wizard until his breathing lengthened and he fell back asleep. He'd probably have held him longer still, but he noticed he had an audience waiting for him.  
  
At some point Officer Murphy had returned and joined the two wizards. They had been watching quietly, waiting for Snape to fall back asleep. The healer gently lowered the wizard back on to the bed and tucked covers around him. He then walked over to sit in the chair left for him.  
  
How's Professor Snape doing? the security wizard asked.  
  
Sick. He's lost two days' worth of potion plus he's been  
subjected to the cruciatus curse. I think he'll pull through,  
but he's going to be down for a couple weeks, Barnes said.   
Dumbledore shifted and sat up straighter.  
  
That bad? the Headmaster asked, concerned.  
  
I don't know exactly how difficult it will be to kick out the   
virus. He had three days' work of potion and then has  
basically skipped two days. I'm going to give him the more  
potent solution tomorrow. The virus in and of itself is   
dangerous. Coupled with his general poor health and toss in  
that damned curse, I don't know even if two weeks will  
be enough, Barnes glanced over at the sleeping man, hoping the fever potion was kicking in.  
  
That damned curse is causing all sorts of trouble at the  
Ministry, Murphy confided in them. The general feeling  
is Clarion was trying to cover his butt and Adams is a  
loose cannon. I've had trouble with him before and had  
him on improvement plans before he transferred over to  
the Minister of Magic's personal detail. He was working  
on Fudge's orders. Murphy's face reddened in anger and concern.  
  
None of us like the fact Fudge condoned the use of   
force although he was quick to say he'd never allow an  
unforgivable curse, he gestured towards the bed, Snape's  
sick, for Merlin's sake!  
  
Ah, but he's a death eater, Dumbledore said darkly.  
We all know how treacherous they are. His companions looked at the Headmaster uncertain of how to answer.  
  
For the gods sake! He's done everything they've   
wanted. He's spied and brewed and suffered at both  
Voldemort's hand and their own. Is there any wonder  
why he's so damned angry all the time? the older wizard shoved out of his chair and paced across the room.  
  
Murphy shifted uneasily trying to formulate an answer.  
  
Albus, we know. Most of us at the ministry know. We  
try our damnedest to be fair. Fudge just has this absolute  
blind spot when it comes to Severus. Whenever he's in  
to report I make sure one of us is with him, we don't let  
him alone with any of Fudge's chosen, Murphy insisted. With a sigh Dumbledore stopped pacing and faced the security wizard.  
  
I'm sorry, Murphy. I know you try. I'm yelling at the   
wrong people, the Headmaster had stopped by Snape and reached down to push sweaty hair out of his face.   
  
Barnes asked.  
  
Dumbledore replied. Snape eyes flew open startled.   
  
Severus? ssshh, it's ok, the Headmaster tried to soothe the frightened wizard. The movement brought the Healer. His patient was shivering.  
  
I feel sick, Snape murmured, his color off. A pail quickly materialized as he lost what little he had in his stomach. Barnes was not pleased. He threw off the damp bedding and began to strip soaked sleep clothes. Too weak to help or hinder, Snape just curled up as tremors shook his body. A dry flannel sheet was carefully wrapped around the wizard and then the Healer simply levitated him to the lounge, protectively settling him onto his lap and wrapping more covers around his patient.  
  
ssshh, it's ok, Severus, I have you, Barnes rocked slowly, humming a little until Snape went limp again curled against the Healer.  
  
My bag, cup, straw, cool watered juice, Barnes rattled off and between the three wizards standing quickly secured the ingredients. More solutions were put into the cup.   
  
Come on, Severus, you need to drink for me again, the Healer nodded at Dumbledore who helped hold the cup and sang softly to Snape. Straw into mouth and finally liquid was slowly drawn up.  
  
You will be just fine, Severus. I will hold you for now, then  
Albus will. We will protect you, I promise, Barnes leaned back with his patient gently sending a thin stream of energy to keep him relaxed. He felt Snape fall into sleep.  
  
He'll be fine, Barnes told the assembled wizards. Just  
needs to sleep and get more liquids to stay down. That   
will help reduce the fever.  
  
What about the lab, doctor? Murphy asked.  
  
I have a list of the damages. I estimated the costs. I'm  
sure my father can get the stock replaced easily enough.  
The elves have done a great job cleaning up, Barnes added.  
  
I'll take a copy back with me. I'm meeting with Fudge  
in the morning. I want everything in order, Murphy grumbled.  
  
  
Snape slept the evening snugged in either Barnes or Dumbledore's arms. Between the illness and the nightmares inspired by the curse only the closeness gave him any respite. He was re-wrapped twice as he sweated out the fever. Finally a sleepshirt was pulled on and Snape was tucked into bed between Headmaster and Healer.  
  
First thing in the morning Barnes went down and bottled up the reserved potion. He wanted to dose Snape as soon as possible. The other cauldrons were simmering away. Beryl and Dobby had recruited a few other elves to watch the brewing. The Healer decided he'd need to start one more batch later in the morning. He'd confer with his father and Madame Pomfrey to see how many were still sick.  
  
Returning to the Headmaster's rooms he found Snape curled into Dumbledore's robes while the older wizard was reading his morning mail.  
  
Barnes inquired as he started to roll Snape back slowly.  
  
Seems to be, he woke when I dressed but settled back  
down. He said he felt nauseous but didn't loose anything, Dumbledore reported. With sure hands Barnes brought Snape partially upright cradled against him. Eyes fluttered opened.  
  
Good morning Severus! he said cheerfully. I've brought  
your medicine, he held the dosing cup. Snape inspected it carefully.  
  
It's darker, he observed.  
  
Let it brew an additional day. You're going to need the  
extra oompf' to get better, Barnes brought it to Snape's lips and waited for him to swallow. The Potions Master was a little confused he decided, but the entire dose was swallowed without any other comments. A small drink of water followed. Further liquid was refused.  
  
Need to keep this down, Barnes, Snape said, concentrating carefully. He'd turned paler, if that was possible. Putting his hand over Snape's midriff, the Healer began to soothe the rebelling stomach. He was surprised how upset it was, roiling in discontent.  
The Potions Master was sweating freely, but not from the fever. It seemed more of a reaction to the potion.  
  
Not going to stay, Snape managed through gritted teeth. The pail reappeared and the ill wizard lost everything that was left. Not much, potion and water. And a little blood. Worried, Barnes continued to soothe his patient until the retching ended and he fell limp against him.  
  
What's wrong? Dumbledore was fairly alarmed.  
  
I don't know; his body rejected the potion like it was  
poisoned, the Healer observed continuing to pour in enough energy to keep Snape relaxed. Fresh water offered, then some potion to reduce the cramps. A little fever reducing potion. More watered juice. The shivering would not stop and finally Barnes simply pulled Snape tight against him, rocking and singing until he fell back asleep.  
  
I need to check this potion. Something is not right, Barnes murmured. Dumbledore carefully slid in place as Snape was levitated onto his lap. If anything the tremor was more pronounced.  
  
Is he cold? Why is he shaking so much? the Headmaster asked.  
  
Fever. He's running nearly 103 F which is high for an   
adult. The fever potion will kick in soon. If not we're going  
to have to ice him down, Barnes moved to the bottle of stronger potion and opened it, giving it a cursory sniff. He then picked up a bottle of the regular strength and gave it a sniff.  
  
Something's not right, the Healer commented. Pulling out his wand he took both bottles and his journal to the small table near the window. Barnes referred to the journal, searching back through several pages until he found the formula Snape had developed. He then poured a small puddle of the regular strength potion on the table top and moved his wand over it, casting a sorting charm on it.  
  
Dumbledore watched with interest as the potion began to separate out in neat little piles. With another wave and murmur the piles arranged themselves in order, from first in to last added to the potion. Barnes began to touch each constituent in order and compared it to the listing in his book.  
  
Well, that one's correct, the Healer commented. He proceeded to reach for the second bottle and poured another small puddle on the table repeating the charms and watching it arrange itself into its parts.   
  
Dumbledore could see two additional blots on the table top.  
  
Barnes touched the extra components and hissed angrily.  
  
I need to go check on the other cauldrons. I'll be back  
up within a half-hour. If Severus's fever gets worse, send  
for me, and the Healer swept out of the room without clueing Dumbledore in to the potion's secrets.  
  
Barnes was as good as his word, returning within twenty minutes. He carried a new vial in his hand as he sat next to the bed to check on Snape. The fever had not broken.  
  
What else was in the potion, Jeffrey? Dumbledore asked  
  
Arsenic and some comfrey. It could have been accidental,  
since they tore through the cupboards and this particular  
cauldron was set aside from the others. It could have  
been on purpose as it was the only one altered. I have  
no way of knowing. Ok, Severus, open, Barnes carefully tipped the vial into the drowsing man's mouth then teased it down his throat.  
  
He needs to be cooled, the Healer continued tersely, levitating the limp body. All the Headmaster could do was follow the body and the doctor into the bathroom and help get the tub ready.  
  
Snape was not pleased with the cold bath. Not at all. He struggled weakly trying to get out but was easily overcome by the Healer. Dumbledore gently cradled his friend's head as the other wizard took advantage of the water to clean his patient.  
  
Soon the fever broke; sweat dotted the Potions Master's face and was wiped away. Snape gave up, no longer moving in the icy water. A trail of tears flowed down into the bath.  
  
Can we take him out, Jeffrey? Dumbledore asked quietly. A mute nod and the still body was levitated and dried. A clean flannel sheet was wrapped around and soon Snape was once more curled up in the Headmaster's arms on the lounge.  
  
Try to get some broth in him, Albus, and more juice. His  
stomach should be less touchy now, Barnes turned, gathering his things and put on his cloak.  
  
Where are you going, Jeffrey? Dumbledore looked with concern at the extremely quiet Healer.  
  
I have to speak with my Father. He or I will be back in  
a few hours. Severus should sleep. If his fever spikes  
you'll have to use an ice bath or just use ice packs on the  
fever points: groin, armpits, neck, forehead. He should be  
fine, though. I gave him a potion to counteract the arsenic  
and stomach cramps, Barnes gave him a tight smile.  
He really will be just fine, Albus. The Healer swept out of the room.  
  
  
Snape was as weak as a newborn kitten and wanted to do nothing but stay wrapped in his mentor's arms. He conceded to sipping broth and juice, though. His stomach remained settled and much to Dumbledore's relief the fever stayed down. Several hours passed. They moved out into the sitting room near the fire so the Headmaster could read his owls.   
  
James Barnes knocked and entered the Headmaster's offices just before four pm. He'd gone with Jeffrey to view the potions lab and check the cauldrons then they parted. His headstrong son had an appointment at the ministry.   
  
He found the patient curled tight against Dumbledore black hair pulled back in an simple pony tail.   
  
Good afternoon, Headmaster. Let me sit with the patient   
for awhile, the older healer said, levitating Snape up and allowing Dumbledore to slide out.  
  
Thank you, James, the wizard replied, stretching his back and legs. He'd been sitting a long time and the movement felt wonderful.  
How has Severus been? Barnes pursued, running a light scan over the ill wizard. He frowned at what he felt'.  
  
Dumbledore prompted without answering.  
  
Arsenic. I hate the effects on a body. Jeffrey's neutralized   
it and it won't cause Severus any further problems, the Healer was now soothing his patient, arranging the body as comfortably as possible over him. Also, he's one of the sickest  
from the flu I've scanned. The three worst died.   
  
Which didn't comfort Dumbledore at all and he sat down on the couch.  
  
He's not out of the woods yet, Albus. Jeffy done a great  
job stabilizing him, and the poison is taken care of. He's  
just very, very, sick, Barnes leaned closer to Snape gently stroking his hair.  
And you don't take care of yourself, do you Severus? We  
will work on that, I promise you!   
  
He's never taken very good care of himself, Dumbledore commented, leaning back on the couch.  
Some of our more spectacular fights are over him  
not eating or sleeping enough.  
  
Barnes rumbled deep in his chest, almost a predatory purr, as he ran a little healing energy into his patient. With a comfortable sigh, Snape began curling closer.   
  
We'll see, the Healer muttered. His patient began to wake, the smell had changed. With a drowsy murmur Snape surfaced.  
  
the wizard questioned.   
  
Here, Severus, Dumbledore said, touching his friend's back.  
  
I'm here, too. Dr. James, rumbled the Healer. Snape blinked blearily and looked at the Headmaster, listening to the heart beating.  
I think you might like a bath, Severus. Then perhaps a   
little something to eat, Barnes said, gently pulling his patient up sitting against him as he swung his feet to the floor.   
  
Hi Dr. James, Snape said weakly as he leaned against the wizard for support.  
  
the Healer murmured, gathering the desperately ill man up with a slight levitation charm. Dumbledore followed them into the washroom. It bothered him how Snape did not struggle, did not complain, did not even seem aware of his surroundings. Water was run into the tub and the Potions Master slipped in with a weary sigh. All the sweat and agony was gently washed off. Hair was carefully tended to and wrapped in a dry towel.  
  
Am I going to get better, Dr. James? Snape's thin voice plaintively asked. The Healer continued to dry various parts of his floating patient.  
  
Of course you are, Severus. You're just very sick. I'm  
going to help you get better. Then I'm going to help you  
take care of yourself, ok? You need to take better care  
of yourself when you're not so sick, Barnes soothed the limp patient.  
  
Why? It doesn't matter much what I do. I try and try  
and it never makes any difference. I'm never going to be  
forgiven for what I've done, the defeated voice wafted up and cut through Dumbledore's heart. He had to stand and touch and comfort his child.  
  
You have more than atoned for your mistakes, child. You've  
done a great deal more, he said quietly, looking Snape in  
the eyes; deep sad eyes.  
  
I know you love me Albus. I love you, too. But the  
Ministry, the magical community, will never accept me, the voice was shaky and full of unspilled tears.  
  
Severus, sssshh, you are too sick to worry about the  
fools at the Ministry. As for the magical community, there  
are many who respect you. Let's get you well and then  
we can work together to make you feel better, the rumbling purr of the Healer soothed the ill wizard. Hair was dried and braided. Lotion was rubbed into skin, a sleepshirt pulled on and thick socks tugged onto feet.   
  
Sitting at the table was out of the question for Snape. He couldn't walk, couldn't hold himself up at all. Dr. James carefully cradled him in the lounge, pillows supporting him as he sat. Then he was fed spoon after spoon of warm oatmeal, some fruited yogurt, and a mug of watered juice. Dumbledore hovered nearby ready to help.   
  
Finally the Healer mixed a powdered potion in the remains of his juice and held the straw patiently while Snape slowly drained the cup. Satisfied Barnes removed several pillows and lowered the ill man down. Covers were pulled up as sleepy eyes watched.  
  
Sleep, Severus. I will clean up and then hold you, Dr. James murmured, running his hand over Snape's face. Eyes closed and he waited a moment until the ill wizard slipped into sleep. He stood and turned to the Headmaster.  
  
He's fine, Albus. After I put things away I will pulse him  
for awhile. The fever is staying down and he's held in  
his liquids. I think he'll weather through just fine, Barnes said gently. He began to stow odds and ends into his satchel.  
  
I'm worried, James, he's so weak and he's given up, Dumbledore slid into the chair next to Snape and simply watched him sleep.   
  
He is weak. But I don't think he's quite given up. He just  
feels everyone else has given up on him. As far as that  
damned Ministry is concerned, he might have a point. But  
I know of several people that care for him, respect him, for  
who he is and what he's done. I plan to help get him through  
this influenza then I will work with him, James' asserted looking Dumbledore square in the eye.   
I will need your help, Albus. Together we will help Severus.  
  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
There is a saying that no good deed goes unpunished. Which was very nearly the case for both Snape and Jeffrey Barnes.   
  
When the Ministry (read: Fudge) refused to recognize the makers of influenza potion in any way Barnes stormed out of the building intent on finding a more sympathetic ear at the Daily Prophet. Which resulted in the young Healer being detained by the Minister's special unit overnight.  
  
Which resulted in Dumbledore entering the Ministry with the editor of the Daily Prophet whom he'd just _happened_ to run in to at the Leaky Cauldron. Ian Clayton was very much interested in meeting one of the wizards responsible for helping so many in the magical community. Faced with the Editor's irrepressible good will and not so subtle threats Fudge brought Dr. Barnes up to his office for a small interview. It was Clayton who arranged for the community to express their thanks when it became very apparent the Ministry would not.  
  
In the long run the individual outpouring of owls and small gifts was much more appreciated than anything the Ministry would have conceded to present. Dr. James made sure Snape read each and every note that came. He also organized a sweets tasting as home made divinity and fudge (Snape's and Jeffrey's favored treats respectfully) literally poured in covering a large table in the great hall.  
  
Christmas was subdued that year; the students that remained were few and the staff was glad of the break. Even the castle itself seemed to drowse in comfortable lethargy for the holiday. Although there were a few upset stomachs after the sweets were consumed.  
  
And so time quietly passed until the spring rains swept the castle grounds beating a gentle cadence on the Headmaster's windows. He sat indulging in a hot cuppa with his Potions Master nattering over bits of news and gossip from within and without the school. Dumbledore shifted a few parchments on his desk and selected an embossed Ministry letter that was handed over to Snape.  
  
Seems there's a small outbreak of influenza this spring, the Headmaster commented in his most unpressing tones.  
The medical research department is requesting assistance.  
  
Snape looked at the letter for a long moment his lips pursing slightly in concentration.   
  
the Potions Master snarled at the offending parchment.   
  
It was all that Dumbledore could do as he smoothed his beard not to burst into laughter.  
  
I take that as a definite no then... he murmured.  
  
  
  
  
~FINIS~


End file.
